


"I'm so glad I get to do that..."

by BillieBleu



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Robbe pov, Wedding, but set like 12 years into the future, not an au, proposal, the long-awaited newlywed fic, they're happy and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BillieBleu/pseuds/BillieBleu
Summary: Sander is showing his latest work at a gallery. The opening is the day before his birthday. Robbe is on the case.Contrary to what you might expect from that, not much plot, a lot of fluff.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 25
Kudos: 158





	1. "French exit for me and you"

Robbe could smell breakfast before realizing he wasn’t dreaming but was actually slowly waking up. He stretched a little, a small sound escaping his lips without him meaning it to. He blinked a few times, sunlight hitting his eyes a little, blinding him. He could hear Lykke Li’s voice in the kitchen. “Dance, Dance, Dance.” The first thing he could make out once his eyes got used to the morning sun was the candles he’d arranged all over the bedroom the night before. And then it all came back to him. 

The gallery, the opening. A lot of champagne. A lot of standing a bit uncomfortably. A lot of watching Sander being his charming self. This feeling of pride and accomplishment Robbe had. Knowing the pressure Sander felt, the difficult times it brought on. How Sander had pushed through. And all this coming so soon after the wedding. Sander had worked so hard. They hadn’t had a honeymoon yet, because Robbe didn’t care much for wedding traditions, but also because this was such an important year for Sander, for his career. 

Then they’d left. Sander had a thing for leaving his own parties. Inviting people over and spending the entire time outside the apartment, talking to that one person. Or looking at Robbe insistently until finally they couldn’t take it anymore and he grabbed his hand to find some place quiet, away from the noise and the people. Or, as had been the case the night before, escaping through the back door, not before stealing a bottle of champagne and a glass, running in the soft orange light of the streetlamps, their footsteps the only sound, giggling like school kids, like when they’d first met.

They’d stopped by the river for a while, made out like teenagers, drunk some champagne from the glass they shared. Sander had looked up. 

“The moon is shining down on us tonight, Robbe.” 

“Are you happy?” 

Sander looked very serious all of a sudden.

“Yes.”

It was clear and final, and it filled Robbe’s heart with a sense of peace. It sounded like a promise, a promise of more. Sander had never looked more handsome. A little bit drunk, eyes big as he gazed at the sky, delicately tan skin glowing in the pale light of the full moon.

“I love you, Sander Driessen.”

And Robbe didn’t know if he was imagining the reverence in his tone or if Sander had heard it too, but he didn’t really care.

Walking home later, holding Sander’s hand, he was reminded of the tradition they had started of booking hotel rooms for a night back when they still lived with their respective moms, after exams, after time spent apart, or just when they wanted time alone. They’d save the little money they had and surprise each other with a night away from their lives, a few stolen hours that belonged only to them. When Sander had announced he was going to show his latest work at the gallery, Robbe had toyed with the idea of booking a hotel room like they used to for the opening night, for his birthday, but in the end he’d opted for going home instead. The very idea of a home of their own bringing such comfort and joy to him still after all this time.

Finally they made it back to the comfort of their apartment. Chuckling as they struggled to get their key in the keyhole. Kissing against the door. Pressed fiercely against each other. On the way there, Sander hadn’t asked who Robbe was texting at almost midnight. When he opened the door, the hallways, all the way to the bedroom, were lined up with dozens of burning candles. Sander turned around, his mouth open in surprise.

“Happy 30th, Sander.”

He scoffed in disbelief.

“I got a little help…”

There was so much Robbe wanted to say but didn’t know how, about how proud he was of him and his career and the fights he’d fought, how he wished Sander could see himself through his eyes, because he was so damn beautiful it was both heartbreaking, breathtaking, and comforting in an ethereal sort of way. The look on his face. The warm glow in his eyes. The flame burning inside. Like he’d taught the fire how to burn. He was the beginning and the end of everything in that moment. And Robbe felt so thankful for him, for this force of a man who’d always made him feel so strong even when he was scared and unsure.

“Look at you…” he simply whispered.

And he didn’t know if it was the candles or the radiators but he could feel heat spreading through his limbs, to his very bones, yearning throbbing in his throat, his heart, the core of him. Part of his brain was nagging him for not saying even a 10th of what he wanted to when Sander kissed him. And he knew that that passion that was taking over him was taking over Sander too. There was a familiar hunger in his touch that he couldn’t believe was still here after all those years. Sander was starting to push him towards a wall when Robbe stopped him.

“Wait!”

He looked worriedly at the burning candles on the floor. Sander followed his gaze and chuckled. Robbe focused back on Sander and tried to set a slower pace, taking Sander’s face in his hands and letting his lips brush against Sander’s ever-so-delicately.

“I’m so glad I get to do that,” Robbe whispered.

And it didn’t matter if he was talking about the kiss or the candles or celebrating Sander’s birthday or his career. Because he meant all of those. With Sander, always. And Sander wrapped his arms around Robbe’s neck and brought him closer for a hug.

“Thank you,” Robbe heard Sander whisper in his hair and he wasn’t sure if it was about the candles or the kiss or the opening. But again, it didn’t matter.

Sander took him by the hand then and guided him to their bedroom. Chat, the cat, hopped off the bed and headed towards them, but Sander gently pushed him out of the room and closed the door as Robbe looked on, chuckling softly and pouting a little guiltily at the confused and disappointed meow. Sander then turned to face him and took off Robbe’s glasses delicately, setting them down on the bedside table.


	2. "Il est temps de s'étreindre"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast in bed and Chat's backstory

One of his hands automatically went to pat and feel its way on the bed behind his back, although he knew full well Sander - as always - would be either in the kitchen or in his studio. He was mentally preparing to leave the bed and go fetch his husband, drag him back to the bedroom, to under the covers, when his hand stumble upon soft, warm skin. He turned around, startled. Sander was looking at him with a smirk behind his beard. Robbe reaches out of the covers to cup his face.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Sander repeated, softly.

“Hey! Don’t say that like it’s obvious! You’re always gone when I wake up.”

Robbe pouted.

“I always have to get up alone or come drag you back to bed,” he added.

“But I’m here now.”

Robbe hummed softly. Closing his eyes, raising his head a little, waiting to be kissed.

He thought of all those mornings that had come before. Spending the evening with someone was something that could be spontaneous meaningless. But there was an intimacy and a quiet holiness to mornings that always made them feel special. Good days, bad days, ordinary days. Bringing Sander a second cup of coffee as he worked in his studio, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and neck from behind. Forehead kiss. “My artist.” Crashing into bed at dawn after going out and seeing the night turn into day. Lazy Sundays of languid kisses and the most deliciously slow sex under the covers or the light of the sun. Or late for work stealing a kiss before rushing out the door. Tight hugs and breakfast croques he made when Sander felt like he couldn’t cope, hiding from the darkness curled up in a corner of his studio. Wishing he were the sun to dry his tears and chase the demons away. Croissants at the kitchen table when there was something to celebrate. Sunrises from the rooftop when they were both restless, like there was so much to do and see and talk about and fall in love with. 

He felt so lucky, so lucky that he’d found his only love so early. That he got to grow up and now grow old with him. That they got so many mornings together, so many more to come. And Sander kissed him, for long, lazy minutes. Pale sunlight and feathery touches. Interrupted only by sweet nothings whispered at each other, before Sander broke their bubble.

“Today is breakfast in bed! Let me get it before it get really cold.”

“What did I do to deserve that?”

“You married me.”

Sander, already up and heading towards the kitchen, looked back and winked as Robbe pouted and sadly grabbed the covers at the absence of him. He couldn’t help but smile at naked Sander making his way around the apartment. The most beautiful sight, and something he had to get used to once they lived together, as he discovered Sander’s complete lack of modesty when it came to being naked. Not that Robbe would ever complain.

A few seconds later Sander was back with a tray full of food, toast and butter and cheese and jam and coffee and juice and cereals and fruit and was that eggs?!

“I didn’t know what you wanted so I made everything.”

Robbe must have looked confused or surprised. But he’d learned 2 things over the years: that love could be like that, and to let himself be loved - as much as Sander would love him, to enjoy every minute of it; not to worry too much, when things were good, about whether they were too good, about when they’d get bad. This had been the work of months and years, and sometimes frustration and confusion and fights and yells and tears. And always in the end finding their way back to each other. Of learning how to communicate and how to love Sander the way he needed to be loved, fiercely on bad days but also on good days.

“You... Thank you.”

At that, Sander offered him the softest, easiest of smiles.

“Mon amour,” he said, bending down to meet Robbe’s lips, eyes fluttering close.

Chat, the cat, hopped up on the bed, intrigued by the tray, nuzzling at Sander’s arm delicately. Sander couldn’t help but chuckle, breaking the kiss and getting back in bed, under the covers. It wasn’t close enough for Robbe though. He wrapped his arms around him, let his head rest on Sander’s shoulder. Chat lay down on the covers between them. 

He wasn’t exactly their cat. A friend of theirs had adopted the fluffy orange kitten a couple of years back, naming him after the similarly orange feline in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which she’d watched after seeing the video for Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Now That I Found You,” which she loved. A few months after that she had asked them to cat-sit for a few weeks as she travelled through South America. They said yes, not expecting that she’d fall in love with Buenos Aires, settle there, and never come back to Antwerp. Now here they were. Chat and Robbe were cordial to each other – hellos, an occasional caress, sometimes longer interactions when they were both in a particularly good mood – but he had formed an especially close bond with Sander. “We just understand each other,” Sander had explained once with a shrug, sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of their apartment, Chat purring in his arms, petting him to death.

“It’s really going to be cold if we don’t eat now,” Sander finally said, making a face as he reluctantly left the comfort of Robbe’s arms, reaching out and stealing a grape from the tray. 

“Ok, but it’s the last thing for me you’re allowed to do today. This is your day.”

Robbe didn’t want to make Sander feel bad for doing something so thoughtful. But today was his birthday after all. Even if he’d already surprised him the night before as they came home. Even he had something planned for later that day. He tried to stop himself from smiling so as not to betray his secret, as he grabbed the toast.


	3. "Me besas, sueño y miel en mi boca"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning up after breakfast and flashback another moment in that same kitchen when Robbe had suggested: "Let's get married."

Robbe was sitting in bed, his back against the wall, Sander’s head resting on his shoulder. His fingers were absent-mindedly playing in Sander’s hair as he looked on at the remains of breakfast on the bed. Chat was still here, licking at his elbow, apparently not satisfied with what they’d shared with him from the tray Sander had brought. This was not an unusual sight in their household, the three of them entwined this way. 

Once Sander’s Mom, seeing them three like that on the couch, Robbe holding Sander, Chat perched on Sander’s stomach and purring softly, had said “Sander honey, you’re so loved…” Her voice was only a little over a whisper, but her eyes sparkled in the soft orange light of their living room. It made Robbe emotional, his throat tightening a little as he remembered teenage Sander, insecure, unsure he deserved to be loved. And she must have remembered those times too, as she added: “I’m so happy to see you like that.” And Robbe and Sander had looked at each other and exchanged a smile that meant “I know.” This odd little family, Sander and Chat and him. 

Someone had told Robbe once: “Ideally, in life, you shouldn’t want anything that you don’t already have.” And this had been true for him since he’d met Sander. From that moment on, he’d wanted nothing more than exactly that. Being with him. His only love.

A small noise of regret escaped Robbe’s lips as he sat up, losing Sander’s touch, in an attempt to start their day.

“I thought this was my present,” Sander said, pouting.

“What?”

“Spending the day naked in bed with you.”

“In that order?” Robber teased.

“No.”

Sander’s voice was low and serious. And suddenly Robbe could see a dark flame flickering on in Sander’s eyes. But he knew better. 

“Come. We need to clean all this. We have a long day ahead of us,” Robbe said, trying to stay firm and stick to his plan, even though Sander was looking at him like that.

“What?!”

Sander seemed surprised. And intrigued. Which was good. It probably helped distract him from his own plan for Robbe.

“I’m not saying anything more.”

Robbe was still intent on keeping his secret as long as possible. He got out of bed, put on some underwear, and grabbed the tray in one swift movement. He could feel Sander’s eyes on him as he headed to the kitchen but chose to ignore them. Sander soon followed him anyway. Now wearing underwear, he hopped up on the counter as Robbe washed the dishes, and dried everything Robbe handed him with a dish towel. A familiar system.

As Robbe washed the dishes and put everything away in cupboards, he looked around at their kitchen. The apartment they lived in wasn’t their first home together. They’d lived in tiny studio apartments as students. Freezing in the winter and unbearably warm in the summer. Then they’d both gone abroad for a semester, Sander to Germany, Robbe to France. Excruciating, despite them going back and forth as often as they could. Then there had been another small apartment while Robbe finished studying and started working. But this was the first one where they’d lived as a married couple. And for that reason it felt special. It was the first time they could afford to have a spare room for Sander to work in. The first time they could host all their friends at once.  


Marriage hadn’t really been on Robbe’s mind. Ever. But it had been on Sander’s. Always. From the very beginning of their relationship Sander had made it very clear that for him this was it. And therefore they should go all the way. He’d always been generous with his feelings and making them known to Robbe. Never shy, always certain. It had given Robbe confidence, in himself, in his own love for Sander, in the future they could have. So if marriage hadn’t been on Robbe’s mind, there was still an obviousness to their forever that meant that deep down he knew there was no point in waiting, which was what Sander had been doing all these years. No point in waiting for Robbe to be ready. Because he already was, had been from the start.

The morning Robbe woke up and realized all that, he knew he’d be the one asking Sander. Even if they’d actually talked about it before so it wasn’t a real surprise or anything and even if part of Robbe was exasperated by the whole proposal thing. Even if he suspected Sander had probably started planning something or had at least started considering it. No point in waiting. And he wanted to do that, for Sander. It felt meaningful that it came from him in the end, he who’d been reluctant or at least skeptical all this time. So he asked.

That morning at breakfast before going to work as they sat facing each other at their small kitchen table and the sun was shining on Sander and his eyes were like watercolor, he asked. Or rather he suggested: “Let’s get married.” And Sander’s mouth dropped open a little and he didn’t say anything for a few seconds and then he looked like he was about to say something but then didn’t, and then Robbe said with a smile that was both soft and mischievous: “I know you wanted a balcony and a white Tesla. We can do all that if you want. I just thought if I want to spend the rest of my days with you anyway... why wait?”

Sander’s face went from speechless surprise to wide-eyed, pretend offense, but still he didn’t say anything. So Robbe went on: “Sorry I ruined your moment. I know this is something that is important for you. Maybe you wanted to be the one to do this. You can take charge of the rest if you want. If it were me, we’d just be going to city hall this afternoon the 2 of us. And that’s it. We’re bound together anyway. I don’t want more. But I know you probably do. All the way or no way, right? So you can be in charge. I’ll help you.”

As Sander still didn’t say anything, Robbe started to worry. At first he thought the lack of response was just Sander being disappointed at this stolen opportunity for a romantic moment, but had Robbe actually misread all the signs? Had Sander changed his mind about getting married? “Do you... not want to?” he asked, frowning worriedly. Sander leaned forward then, above the kitchen table. “I love you so much.” His eyes looked particularly sparkly when he repeated “I love you so much. Of course. Let’s do that.” And that kiss, awkward and emotional and uncomfortable as they remained separated by the kitchen table between them, was the best kiss. And even Robbe who didn’t care much for marriage had to admit to himself that it did feel like the first kiss of their forever together.

And then Sander, with a smirk, trying not to break the kiss, did what Robbe should’ve done: he pushed to the side the toasts and plates and glasses and utensils and climbed onto the table - of course - and knelt and bent down to get closer to Robbe, to wrap his arms around his neck and lace his fingers in Robbe’s hair. And Robbe stood up better to fit in between Sander’s knees, better to be kissed and held and loved. And this - eyes closed, old tee-shirts and underwear, birds chirping outside, sunlight officiating - felt like as much a binding ceremony as anything they could do that involved other people and signing things, to Robbe who’d always scoffed at Valentine’s Day and only ever swooned at grand gestures when it was Sander making them because it was Sander making them.

After that, he would often tease Sander, saying that to him that was their actual wedding, insisting they should celebrate their anniversary on that day. Just like he’d insisted for a while that his favorite date with Sander had been when he had a cold and Sander brought him lemon juice with ginger and honey from his mom and they ate cheap cup ramen sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor one evening.

Coming back from his memories, Robbe went back to Sander, still perched on the counter, cupped his face with his right hand, and kissed him softly. It only lasted a second though, as Robbe remembered his plan.

“Come,” he said, grabbing Sander’s hand and guiding him out of the kitchen.


	4. "Tú sí sabes quererme"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next step in Robbe's plans for the day is a quick shower.  
> I kept it very chaste, you can fill in the rest with your imaginations. (I don't know why it still feels uncomfortable for me to read or write smut involving Robbe and Sander, when I've actually both written and read explicit fics before. Oh well, you have other, no doubt amazing, fics for this type of content, which you won't find here.)

Robbe could hardly hide a sigh as he walked into the bathroom, still holding Sander’s hand, wondering how he’d keep this efficient and to the point, and not dissolve into honey as soon as the barely dressed man in front of him would put his hands on him. And already Sander was kissing him and taking off the hairband holding Robbe’s bun with his left hand, his right searching under Robbe’s tee-shirt. 

Robbe heard a content hum escape Sander’s mouth. He was starting to regret his birthday plans now. Why didn’t he think of this? Home all day and being naked with Sander. Forgetting that there existed a world outside. Sander was taking off his underwear already, was turning on the water, was making that head tilt that drove Robbe crazy to direct him to the shower. 

Before he’d completely drowned in Sander, Robbe gathered the last of his good sense to warn him: “you should know we have exactly 30 minutes.” He immediately regretted it. This was apparently one of those days when everything and anything Robbe did was met with a response from Sander that would destroy him. And he never knew if this came from him or from the man now standing in front of him, smirking. 

“To do what exactly?”

How could he be sarcastic now?

“Shut up.” Then he added: “you’re going to be the end of me.”

“Well, we did say ‘til death do us part’,” Sander reminded him.

And Robbe could actually feel that in Sander’s ring brushing against his cheek as Sander cupped his face.

“Kiss me.”

And Sander did.

Robbe had wondered how he’d feel about the rings. He’d never worn any. And Sander had stopped wearing his years before, when his art took a new, plastic direction of collage and molding and 3D effects that meant he had to take it off for work and then had just given up wearing it altogether. Robbe felt unsure about the rings. 

One of the reasons he was reluctant about the wedding was that he remembered all too well and still with a slight pang in his chest being 15 or 16 and feeling like his feelings weren’t his own, like everybody had a say in who he liked, who he loved, who he was supposed to be with, like relationships were this performance he had to go through to make other people happy. And he wasted so much time trying to conform to what he thought people expected of him.

What he loved about being with Sander, what was so radically different, is that they’d gotten together on their terms, and become public on their terms. It always felt like what they had was theirs and no one else’s. For the first time, the whispers and rumors, the looks and the comments, disappeared and Robbe was free to discover what love actually could be. He still treasured the memories of his first secret dates with Sander and the perfect bubble that they’d created then and that he could still feel around them when they were together alone.

Deep down, part of him was scared a wedding, as the public performance of what a certain type of love was supposed to look like, would put all that into question, would open their intimacy and adoration to external interference and evaluation. The rings, love reified and made public, for all the world to see, also felt like they would expose their relationship to judgement and criticism. 

Robbe could already hear it: “but you’re so young to be married;” “are you sure you can spend the rest of your life with one person;” “marriage changes things...” And that was only for the non-homophobic part of it.

What Robbe took so long to realize was that all this time he’d focused on how others would react to the wedding, the marriage, the rings. Instead of focusing on what he and Sander would feel. And the truth is he’d rarely felt happier than when under Sander’s gaze, and that was enough to make the wedding itself perfect. He truly wouldn’t have done this with anybody else.

Also the rings fascinated him. They were nothing fancy. They had gone for minimalism. Yet after the wedding, it felt like the rings were all he could see. His or Sander’s would catch a ray of light by chance and he wouldn’t be able to refrain from staring at it. He loved the golden circle on his finger, Sander’s silver one. He felt almost exhilarated knowing what they meant, proud that they were so obviously, openly connected. He loved feeling the ring around his finger, a physical embodiment of his only love.

He loved that the rings were the exact same model but different materials. He loved the symbolism behind that. How they were one, they were each other’s, but they were also their own person, unique and different and whole all by themselves. 

So when they’d come out of the shower, a towel wrapped around their waists, teeth brushed, faces clean, and Sander kissed him, Robbe couldn’t help but take Sander’s hand, raise it to face level and kiss his palm, his lips brushing lightly against the ring.

“My Love,” Sander said.

“My husband,” Robbe answered.


	5. "What a lovely way to be"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be an extra chapter after this one, in the end.
> 
> This is the next step in Robbe's plans: packing and leaving. Where to, you ask? Only Robbe knows...

“What’s the plan now?” Sander asked now that they were dressed and both in the bedroom, absentmindedly stroking Chat.

“Now… we pack.”

“What?!”

“Don’t bother bringing warm clothes. You won’t need them where we’re going.”

“What?!”

“But do bring your camera. And your traveling art kit. You’re not going to want to miss that light.”

“Robbe…”

“We don’t have that much time.”

Sander didn’t insist and started on what Robbe had told him to do. He grabbed a suitcase from the big closet in the corridor and brought it back to the bedroom. He set it open on the floor and started rummaging around the room for his clothes and art supplies. After a few minutes of each of them packing in silence, Robbe felt Sander’s eyes on him. He turned to face him.

“What?”

“You’re not the baby bird you were when I met you,” Sander said.

He went back to packing but Robbe could still hear him when he mumbled: “You’re still my baby bird though.”

Robbe couldn’t help but smile. Catching sight of his reflection in the window as he got up after he finished packing, he took a look at himself. Not much taller than he used to be, but it didn’t cross his mind to feel insecure about it because it was the perfect height to kiss and hug and love Sander. He’d gone back to long hair and was now tying them up in a bun. He’d grown up, could feel himself growing older. He wasn’t the boy he used to be. More confident, more concerned about the world too, a better cook – thank goodness. He’d lived abroad and traveled. He’d taken time alone to figure out who he was and who he wanted to be. He’d learned so much. Listening and exploring and thinking and talking with Sander about art and science and the immensity of it all and the complexities of human emotions and politics and silly things and grave things and heartbreaking things and happy things. He could see all that in the face looking back at him. He felt thankful.

The sound of Sander closing his suitcase brought him out of his reverie.

“Do you have your passport?” Robbe asked.

“I do.”

“You ready?”

Sander looked at Robbe for a second. He nodded.

“So what’s the plan now?”

“We’re going on an adventure, you and I, my love,” Robbe said, trying to sound mysterious, as he grabbed Sander's hand to lead him out.

Later, as they sat on the bus on the way to the airport, Robbe remembered that time when he’d been scared, that time when during an episode Sander had expressed frustration at their domestic life, their routine, the ordinariness of it, all of what Robbe had longed for as a child and a teenager and he knew Sander wanted too. Or thought he did. Robbe knew it was partly the episode, and partly Sander being frustrated at Robbe for trying to check up on him and helping him through it, but still. It had scared Robbe, that this life wouldn’t be enough for Sander. 

This had happened a long time before and Sander had reassured him after that. But Robbe had continued thinking about that a lot, about what his faults were in that, and how he could bring more excitement and novelty into their lives. From then on, he’d taken the resolution of trying more regularly to plan adventures. He could see how making a conscious effort to leave his comfort zone once in a while was good for him and for them as a couple. He sometimes specifically chose moments when he could feel them starting lose themselves and each other in everyday patterns, to surprise Sander, to find new ways to show him love.

This time, it wasn’t that though. They were doing great, if a little stressed with Sander’s opening at the gallery. This was a celebration – Sander turning 30, his career going well – and another type of self-care. Robbe wanted to do as little as possible for the next 10 days. Although he also couldn’t wait to watch Sander see where they were going, to see his reaction as he discovered it all.


	6. “I’ll paint you mornings of gold, I’ll spin you Valentine evenings.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get to the airport.  
> If you find Skam France and OG echoes, I did it on purpose.

As they stepped into the airport, suitcase in hand, backpack on their shoulders, Robbe suddenly felt giddy. He kept giving side looks to Sander as they walked the long corridors. It reminded him of how he felt as he got dressed on the morning of their wedding. Contrary to what Robbe had expected, Sander wasn’t as ambitious as he’d let on regarding the ceremony. Which had helped Robbe stay calm throughout the planning. And which was also why he was so surprised to feel that way at the time. It was Sander after all. Robbe had never once doubted his feelings towards him. And it had taken a few weeks to sort through the mess of the beginning of their relationship, but there was always an obviousness to his love for Sander. So it didn’t seem rational suddenly to feel nervous and excited. And yet he did.

As Robbe led the way to the right check-in counter, their destination appeared on the screens behind the airline employees. Sander stopped in his tracks.

“Ta-da!” Robbe exclaimed, tryin to keep his voice low (they were in public after all).

“No way! That’s what you planned for us? Morocco?! You’re taking me to Morocco?”

Robbe gave him a soft, but really triumphant smile.

“I am.”

“What?!” 

Sander dropped his suitcase and bag to the floor, took Robbe’s face delicately in his hands, and kissed him.

“Do you like your surprise?”

“This is perfect, Robbe. You’re perfect.”

Robbe got on his tippy-toes to hug Sander as close as he could.

“Happy birthday, happy opening, happy wedding, my love,” he whispered in Sander’s ear.

“Thank you. So much. I love you. My husband,” Sander whispered back, burying his face in Robbe’s hair.

As they got back out of their bubble to the real world, Sander added: “I see Yasmina didn’t just teach you how to cook.” Robbe chuckled.

As they checked-in, Robbe remembered standing beside him in city-hall a few months before. Searching for Sander’s ocean eyes, sparkling with held back tears in the soft light of this fall afternoon. Almost shaking as he spoke the words, as he promised forever, again.

Now in the airport, Robbe’s hand looked for Sander’s. Once it did he squeezed it, as the lady at the counter gave them back their passports and wished them a good flight, with a kind smile that reminded him of the man at city-hall. Robbe had loved getting married just the 2 of them, keeping it intimate and a bit mysterious. And he’d loved that Sander had planned a big party that night. Gorgeous in his white suit, which Robbe had loved seeing him in, had loved taking off, Sander had made a speech that he knew he would cherish forever. 

Later as they reached the gate and stepped into the corridor leading to the plane, Robbe holding Sander’s hand, and with his other hand holding his arm, Sander took a second to leave a kiss in his hair. And Robbe could almost hear the acoustic version of “As the World Falls Down,” remembered how Sander looked him in the eye and mouthed the words as they danced the first dance of their forever under neon lights, in front of all their friends and family. And suddenly to him, it seemed that their wedding had already happened all those years before in that ridiculous suite that Sander had rented. They had made their vows then, whether they knew it or not. And Robbe had spent every day since showing Sander that what had happened after that evening had in no way affected the sanctity of that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Over the years, Noor had become one of their very closest friends. She’s the one Robbe contacted to ask her to light the candles for Sander the night of the opening. She also comes and feeds Chat when they’re away.
> 
> \- FYI, trying to picture adult Robbe, I was inspired by edits I saw of pictures of him with glasses, as well as a magnificent fan art of Robbe with a man bun that's been going around tumblr.


End file.
